Besides, if there was even a remote chance that her sister could be rescued, then surely she should take it.
“Fine, let me go, and I’ll contact Salvatore…”
“No,” he rudely interrupted, his expression hard.
She struggled against the chains, ignoring the searing pain that jolted through her body. She’d endured far worse over the years.
“I don’t have time for this crap,” she hissed. “Release me or I swear to God Salvatore will be the least of your concern.”
He paled at the stark threat in her voice, but stubbornly held his ground.
“I need his word that he’ll give me his protection before I release you.”
“And just how the hell is he supposed to give you his word?” Regan narrowed her gaze. “Did you kidnap him, too?”
“The next best thing.” With two long strides, Duncan was reaching to yank aside a blanket that had been draped over a nearby bush.
Only it wasn’t a bush.
Her eyes widened in horror as she recognized the tiny gargoyle currently encased in stone.
“Levet,” she breathed, her gaze shifting to stab Duncan with fury. “Damn you.”
“He’s not hurt. In a few minutes he’ll awake and he can contact Salvatore directly.”
Her brows snapped together. “He’s a gargoyle, not a cell phone.”
“All gargoyles, no matter how tiny, can open a portal in another’s mind.”
She grimaced at the thought of that strange rip in space that Gaynor had conjured opening in someone’s head.
“Ew.”
Duncan regarded her with a hint of surprise, as if startled she could be so clueless.
“Not a physical portal. More like a…wireless connection. Which means it can’t be overheard or traced even by magical means.” His hand absently lifted to stroke the amulet hung about his neck. “No one will know about this call except the three of us and Salvatore.”
“Paranoid much?” she muttered, feeling stupid she hadn’t known about Levet’s skill.
He glared at her taunting, his expression tight in the thickening shadows.
“You haven’t met Caine. He might be a mystical freak, but he’s smart as hell and he has his personal spies everywhere. There’s never been anyone who’s tried to double-cross him who’s lived to tell the tale.”
About to inform the cur that Caine couldn’t begin to compete with Salvatore when it came to ruthless cunning, Regan was distracted by the unmistakable crack of stone.
Turning her head, she watched in awe as the granite crumbled from the statue image of Levet to reveal the gargoyle beneath.
“Sacrebleu.” With a mighty shake, Levet rid himself of the clinging bits of stone, waddling forward and waving his arms in anger. “You mangy, lice-ridden dog, I’m going to…” Belatedly spotting Regan tied to the tree, Levet widened his eyes in alarm. “Ma cherie, what are you doing here? Are you harmed?”
“What I am is pissed off,” she muttered.
Levet frowned as he glanced around the island. “Where’s your vampire?”
Regan turned to glare at Duncan. “He’s waiting for me and he’s not going to be happy if I’m late.”
Duncan planted his fists on his hips. “Get the gargoyle to contact Salvatore, and you’re free as a bird.”
She ground her teeth, knowing she was between a rock and a hard place.
Of course, a voice whispered in the back of her head, it wasn’t the first time.
Hell, it wasn’t even the first time today.
And with her luck, it wouldn’t be the last.
“Christ.” She turned her attention to the wary gargoyle. “Levet, I need a favor.”
Chapter 16
Despite Jagr’s grim determination to keep the howling demons at bay, the passing hours began to take their toll. Pacing the cramped prison, he felt his powers being ruthlessly drained even as the walls seemed to close in around him.
Memories of the endless years of torture seared through his mind, clenching his muscles until he was curled into a shuddering ball in the corner.
At last, not even the image of his beautiful Regan could hold back the hovering insanity.
In desperation, Jagr sank into the deep, death-like sleep only a vampire could achieve.
The comatose state left him vulnerable to attack, but it conserved his strength and, more importantly, it muted the black rage that threatened to consume him.
He was unaware of the passing hours. At least he was unaware until the soothing blackness was stirred by the sound of approaching footsteps outside his cell.
Slowly he allowed his consciousness to rise back to the surface, careful to keep his body perfectly still. At a glance he would look like a corpse, no heartbeat, no pulse, not even a breath. It was an ability that had served vampires well over the years.
Who would fear a dead man?
There was a scraping at the door, almost as if whoever was on the other side was unfamiliar with the lock. At last, there was a distinctive click and the door slid open.
Jagr’s fangs lengthened as the footsteps edged toward his seemingly unconscious form.
His first thought was that there was no scent. An impossibility without the assistance of a witch. His second thought was that the intruder hadn’t bothered to close and lock the door.
Freedom.
With grim effort, he leashed his brutal surge of hope.
There would be no escape until he’d dealt with the enemy who was stalking slowly toward him.
With his eyes closed and the creature’s scent masked, Jagr silently measured the sound of the footsteps.
Closer, closer, closer…
There was a stir of air as the intruder knelt beside him, clearly believing he was dead, or at least incapacitated.
It would be the last mistake the fool ever made.
Preparing to attack, Jagr allowed the bloodlust he’d so desperately tried to keep at bay to flow freely through his body. With his strength muted by the damned hexes, he needed the fury to fuel his powers.
“Jagr.”
The soft voice cut through the silence, but Jagr was past hearing. His only thought was to kill the enemy so he could reach the door and escape.
With a movement too swift for even the most skilled demon to avoid, Jagr shot his arm upward, grasping his enemy around the throat.
There was a gurgling moan as he wrenched his eyes open, staring at the pale, beautiful face poised above him.
Something flickered in the back of his mind. Some strange alarm that clamored for attention, but the bloodlust made his gaze flicker with a haze of red, obscuring the delicate features and drowning out the distress that clutched at his heart.